So Simon’s redesigned minor 9th but wouldn’t beg me to link to him. So I have linked to him anyway, just to prove that having nerve is sometimes worth rewarding. As long as you all remember that you are all my bitches, that is. You’ve got that, right?
Mark’s new haircut makes him look like a Beatle. And he’s started posing more. Which is, you know, fun.
I remember saying to myself in March that if I hadn’t found a permanent job I wanted by my birthday, then I would seriously consider either mass slaughter or suicide. I’m no longer comfortable with the stresses and insecurities of freelance work. Well, one month from today, I turn 29, and while the industry does appear to be picking up slightly, I’m increasingly concerned that I’m not going to be in my dream job by that magical date. I’ve done some stuff during the last couple of months that I’ve always wanted to do, and I’ve done some stuff that I never want to do again. And while I’ve done a lot of good work (I think barbelith is coming together very well) I just don’t ever really feel able to relax and I’m always thinking about where the next work is going to come from. Tonight, I really do feel so very very tired.
Today on Barbelith: Marquis De Sade: Profile – “Being a comprehensive guide to the life and work of the world’s most passionate and depraved libertine and lover.”
I took a break from the nightmare reinstallation from hell in order to catch the last half hour of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It’s weird – Simon and Mark probably weren’t even born when I last saw it.
The weirdest thing about the whole experience was seeing how many images, sounds and effects in Close Encounters have become representative of the whole alien phenomenon. There are traces of Close Encounters in pretty much every film about contact and aliens made since. Particularly weird, though, is the way it’s represented. Exactly the same music and imagery is used in Independance Day and the X-files to convey horror and anxiety, and yet in Spielberg’s original the whole thing is approached with wonder. There’s fear in there as well, of course, but the general spirit is one of awe. It makes all those bizarre claims that Spielberg’s movies are designed to educate and reassure the American public about the actual presence of aliens vaguely plausible. Extraordinary.
When I was 18 I visited the place in the desert where they filmed the movie. At the campsite opposite they show the movie every single night – projected on an screen in an outside theatre – with nothing around but desert and tents, and nothing above but clear skies and hundreds of millions of stars.
I swear to god, if the Barbelith Underground reboot doesn’t work this time, I’m smashing something. I’m going to get a great big fucking rock and throw it through Infopop‘s windows.
“Why do you fight, miniscule blonde one?” Today has been filled with a profound inability to connect to anything or anyone, the frustration of discovering that an application form that was supposed to arrive this morning hasn’t done, a couple of hours of Buffy and a fair amount of UBB dismantling. Had a bit of an existential wobble around 4pm. Comforted myself with the thought that I’m under a lot of stress, am very tired and haven’t eaten properly for a while. Do not, as yet, feel at equilibrium.
Evening in a Nutshell: Was late getting everything done, half-tidied bedroom, met Nick H and Davo at The Edge, drank a couple of drinks, behaved like idiots, had fun. Went to GAY, downed a couple of drinks, bumped into ****, bumped into Scott and friend. Danced like a maniac for an hour or so. Saw stunning man, stunning man engaged in ten minutes of full-body flirting, stunning man wandered off with boyfriend, got a bit pissed off, danced like an angry maniac, tried to get Nick to flirt with someone, tried to leave the dance-floor but they kept playing incredibly good crap. Saw stunning man while sitting and having a fag with Davo. Felt really tired. Davo leant me the money for a cab. Got cab. Got home, had sneaky shower. Talked to **** on AIM about his behaviour over the evening – decided he was a bit of an arse. Went to bed.
